


The New Chapter

by rosworms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Ideation, emotional disorders, suicide tendencies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2732516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosworms/pseuds/rosworms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this season two AU, after discovering a secret that Sam's been keeping, Dean convinces his brother that it would be beneficial if he were admitted to a mental health center. Sam's roommate, a man with messy black hair and sharp blue eyes and the unique name of Castiel, shows him the ropes and they soon become attached to one another. When Castiel discovers Sam's true identity, it's up to them to help them to start a new chapter in their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was written for [The Sastiel Big/Mini Bang](http://sastiel-bigbang.livejournal.com/) on livejournal.
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful artist, who had so much patience with me and created beautiful masterpieces.  
> Check out the wonderful art for this story, created by [kidezt](http://kidezt.livejournal.com/12494.html).

"It’s not serious, Dean." Sam had his arms wrapped around himself, a position of safety and self-comfort as he watched Dean. His older brother was currently sitting across from him on the other bed, sifting through papers. His face lost a little bit of color with each new page he looked at. Sam could hear his ragged breathing as Dean tried to stay calm and in control.

"Not serious? Sam, how far back do these go? You’ve got pages of suicide plans, lists upon lists of the pros and cons of you being alive. Sammy, you have drawings of people hanging, of guns blowing heads off, of blood. Hell, you have some pages that just look like you slashed at them with a pen or marker. Why did you make these? Hell, why do you  _keep_ these?”

Sam shrugged, looking away, thinking of how he'd gotten himself into this situation. They'd been in a hurry that morning when he grabbed his bag. His laptop and all of his notes about the hunt along with everything else in his bag ended up spread out on the bed. Dean had reached over to help gather Sam’s things. When Dean stopped moving, Sam knew he’d been caught. He tried to brush it off as a one time thing and push Dean away, Dean had pushed back. He gathered all of the loose papers and went through them, blocking Sam from grabbing them. That’s how they ended up in the current conversation

"Sam, that wasn’t a rhetorical question."

"I don’t know why I keep them. To remind myself… I don’t know. It makes me feel better. It doesn’t mean anything. Hell, I’ve been writing stuff like that since I started at Stanford. I’m not dead yet, Dean." Sam waved one hand as he spoke, trying to brush off Dean’s concern.

"Not dead yet… ha. Sammy, have you ever…" Dean let his sentence trail off. Sam knew what he was asking and he didn’t want to answer because he knew he couldn't lie convincingly at the moment. He chewed on his lip and looked at the floor. Dean let out a long sigh. "So that’s a yes."

"Dean- I… " Sam didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t make this better for his brother. He’d been trying to do that by keeping it hidden, but now that was over and he was lost.

"I don’t know how to fix this. Sammy, I can protect you from anything out there… but I don’t know how to protect you from yourself. You need something more. More than what I can do for you."

A wave of heat burst from Sam’s abdomen and spread through his body. He could hear his heart beating, could feel it throbbing in his neck. He recognized it as the fight or flight instinct and breathed through it.

"Dean, what-"

"Professionals could-"

They’d spoken at the same time, cutting each other off.

"Professionals?" Sam’s voice was small. He hated how meek he sounded.

"A suicidal hunter is a dangerous hunter… and not dangerous to the monsters he’s hunting. Dangerous to himself and his partner.”

“I'm not suicidal. I'm fine.”

“You're fine? You tried to kill yourself!”

“Not seriously since Stanford!” Sam argued, realizing the moment the words left his mouth, it was the worst argument he could have made. Dean stood and threw the papers too hard, sending them flying everywhere. Sam's eyes focused on one page in particular. The one plan he'd tried to follow through on in college.

“What does that even mean, 'not seriously'? What do you call not serious?” Dean ran a hand through his spiky short hair as he asked. Sam shrugged and looked down at his hands as he fidgeted.

“Sam.”

“Yeah...” Sam stood and went to his duffel. He pulled out a bottle of pills and handed them to Dean. They were prescription strength sleeping pills. “I wasn't going to do anything. They were just... in case.”

“In case what?” He heard Dean's voice shake a little and he felt like scum for making it happen. He felt even worse that he didn't have a real answer aside from another shrug of his shoulders.

“Sammy...” Dean's voice breaking over the affectionate nickname brought Sam's eyes up to him again. “You're not fine. You weren't fine before and now with everything that has happened... Jess and Dad... this scares me.” He held up the pill bottle. “ _This_ scares me. I can't lose you too.”

“You won't, Dean.”

“Dammit, Sam. You tried once. You just handed me your escape plan. You can't promise you won't try again. I don't know how to help with this... stuff. But someone else could. Maybe some time away... ya know? Would help.”

It was Dean’s eyes. Those green eyes that shined even brighter when they were wet with tears that weren’t yet shed. Dean always complained about Sam’s puppy dog eyes, but Sam knew he could never compete with Dean’s eyes.

"Okay… yeah, fine… yes."

~

One week later, after an awkward goodbye hug from Dean, Sam found himself standing alone in a room with two beds. He was wearing sweat pants, socks, a plain t-shirt, and nothing else. Shoe strings were considered dangerous, as were belts, metal zippers, and anything else that he never before thought would make him feel safer. He found that in his current state, he felt exposed and insecure.

His arms were once again wrapped around his abdomen as he shifted from one socked foot to the other. There were slippers at the foot of his bed. One size fits all… a size that never actually fit Sam.

The bedroom door was open, locked in that position. Doors were to remain open at all daytime hours. They were locked closed at night to keep patients from wandering. Sam really didn’t want to be locked in anywhere. He was regretting letting Dean put him here, even temporarily. He wanted to call Dean and make him come back, to save Sam. But there was a rule. No outside contact for 48 hours.

No Dean for two days. It made him nervous to be alone even though he'd spent four years without his brother in school. But at Stanford, he wasn't locked in at night.

Sam sat gingerly on his bed, staring at the empty bed across the room from him.

"Rocking back and forth like that will get attention from the doctors."

A voice startled Sam and he jerked his head to the doorway. His body stilled. He hadn’t realized he’d been moving at all, much less rocking.

"What?"

"Rocking like that. They’ll either say you weren’t held enough as a baby or that you have deeper underlying disorders. So uh… don’t." The new person explained. He was dressed the same as Sam, so he was another patient. His black hair was a mess, but his blue eyes were sharp.

"They’d probably be right," Sam muttered. "Who are you?"

"I am your roommate. My name is Castiel." The dark haired Castiel shuffled to his bed, looking as if he were having a hard time keeping his slippers on his feet. He kicked the offending blue things off his feet and folded his legs on the bed, getting more comfortable.

"I’m Sam."

"Why are you here, Sam?" The blue eyes narrowed, studying Sam and making him feel as if he were under a microscope and could hide nothing.

"Officially? Suicidal ideation with intent and plans." Sam rolled his eyes as he rattled off his diagnosis, ignoring the one attempt from school.

"What about unofficially?"

"My brother found some stuff I of mine and I agreed to ‘get help’ because I hate seeing him that scared."

Castiel nodded without any more questions, and Sam was grateful he didn’t pry any deeper than that.

"What about you?" Sam unwrapped his arms and leaned back on his bed, supporting his weight on his elbows. Having another person to talk to who wasn’t a doctor or nurse was helping to unravel his bundled nerves.

"Officially, I attempted suicide by mixing alcohol and many many sleeping pills." Castiel’s face was looking at the wall to his right, but his eyes slid over to Sam at the end of his sentence. It was as if he were gauging Sam’s reaction and felt safer if he wasn’t facing him all the way.

"And the truth?" Sam had to ask, though mixing sleeping pills and booze sure sounded like suicide to him. It had been his latest option, actually.

"Alcohol is a depressant. It helps to calm me down when I get too anxious. Unfortunately, it also prevents clear thinking. I have trouble getting to sleep and a drunken mind thought more pills would mean better sleep. It was accidental, but I was brought here anyway."

"How long have you been here?"

"Longer than needed."

"And has it helped at all? Any of it?"

"Instead of self medicating, I have actual medication. That is one positive to come from this experience. I do feel slightly less anxious, but I don’t know if it’s because of the medication or because I am safe here."

"Safe…" Sam savored the word on his tongue. It was a feeling he’d hoped to gain when he left for Stanford, but any hope of that was ripped away when Jess burned on the ceiling. He hadn’t felt safe since he realized he was too big for his brother to carry. A very long time ago. He wondered what could be outside those walls to make Castiel take comfort in the safety of being locked up.

~

Sam awoke the next morning to find Castiel already awake and staring at him.

"Dude, stop. That's creepy." He frowned and rolled over, using his bare pillow to cover his face and wishing he were trusted enough to have a blanket for his bed. According to Castiel, the night before, some fucker tried to hang themselves with a blanket and ruined it for anyone with any sort of suicidal diagnosis.

"Apologies. I was not meaning to be creepy. You do have to get up, though. Sleeping in can be seen as a sign of depression. Don't give them excuses to add labels to your psych sheet." Castiel's random advice was given in the same straight and gravelly tone of voice that he delivered every other utterance from his mouth. Sam wondered if he would be there long enough to figure out if Castiel was ever joking or not. Then again, he didn't want to be stuck here any longer than necessary.

With a groan, Sam rolled back over and sat up. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to smooth it down.

"Okay, so what happens now?"

"An orderly will unlock the door and - have you been prescribed any medication?"

Sam shook his head.

"How rare... " Castiel trailed off for a moment before continuing his sentence from before. "An orderly will unlock the door and it will remain open. The staff is not very attentive except to symptoms and disorders, so nobody will remember that you don't know schedules and routines. They will, however, notice if you keep yourself isolated, miss meals, don't shower, don't participate in group."

"So how do I avoid missing meals if I don't know the schedule?"

"You'll have me. The unlucky ones who do not have me will have to learn the hard way." How Castiel managed to say something like that without sounding self important, Sam had no idea.

"Rise and shine!" A voice sounded from the other side of the door and the lock clicked as it was opened. Sam's first full day was starting now.

~

After their group therapy before dinner, Sam stayed back to talk to the counselor, Doctor Sherri (they liked using first names because it supposedly made patients more comfortable with them). Castiel already told him that he was wasting his time, but waited outside of the door for him anyway.

"Um... Sam, was it? How can I help you?" The short woman smiled at him in a way he was sure was meant to be soothing, but seemed condescending.

"Yeah, I just wanted to know if I could use the phone to call my brother?"

"Mmm hmm?" She rifled through her folders until she found his name and opened it up. "Oh, honey, no. You aren't allowed phone privileges until you've been here for 48 hours."

"Yeah, but I thought since I voluntarily admitted myself..." He stopped when he saw her shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, honey, but those are the rules. And it says here that you willingly agreed to not be discharged without your brother's consent. You were briefed on them before finalizing your admittance."

"Yeah... I just hoped..." Sam raised a hand to his neck, massaging stiff muscles before a headache could form. He gave her a smile and left the room at a quick pace, letting Castiel half run after him with his shorter legs.

"I did tell you-"

"I don't need an 'I told you so' right now, Cas. I just need my brother."

"No you don't. Have you never spent time away from your sibling or are you so codependent-"

"Fuck you, Cas. You can go to dinner yourself. I'm going back to the room." And Sam spun on his heel and walked in the other direction.

"Sam, wait!" But he didn't wait and Castiel didn't follow after him.

Sam punched the wall when he reached the bedroom and then let himself slide to the floor. He ignored the orderly that rushed into check on him after the loud thud of his fist hitting the cement and closed his eyes while he rested his forehead against his knees.

He stayed there for at least an hour until he heard the soft shuffling that was distinctive to Castiel and his slippers that were too big. Sam wondered if it was as least more comfortable than feeling like your toes were going to break through the fabric _**.** _

"Sam? I would like to apologize. I did not mean to insult you. I'm not very good with social interaction. I sometimes have trouble figuring out what not to say and how to judge other's reactions to what I say. It's part of what makes me feel so..." Sam could practically hear the wheels turning as Castiel picked his words carefully. "It is part of why I am here." Sam glanced up from his knees and saw Castiel crouching at eye level with him.

"No, it's fine. I was on edge. The last time my brother and I were apart was when I went to school. That was it. Never anytime before that and never again since then."

"I guess I don't know what that is like. I have many siblings, but I have never been close to them. I never felt more alone than I did in a giant house surrounded by family."

"Cas, that's... really sad." Sam reached over and put a hand on Castiel's arm. He gave a small squeeze.

"You do know that your doctor will be notified that you missed a meal?" Castiel changed the subject as he moved to Sam's side and sat down next to him.

"I don't really care."

"You should. I know you want your phone privileges, but they are called privileges for a reason. You have to earn them with good behavior."

Sam's eyes filled with tears as he realized he may have fucked up and he might have to wait even longer before getting to talk to Dean. He leaned his head back against the wall, willing the tears not to fall and wondering why it was so hard to breathe. What was squeezing his chest?

"Sam, you need to control your breathing. You are having a panic attack." Castiel's voice sounded like it was coming through a tube. He had a brief image of a toddler Castiel yelling through an empty paper towel roll. If he wasn't so terrified, he would have laughed.

"A pa- a panic?" Sam gasped. How do you control your breathing when you can't breathe? The tears fell now as black spots danced across his vision. His lungs were on fire, burning with the need for oxygen. His mouth was open and he was gasping, but he couldn't satisfy the need for oxygen. Sam thought he would suffocate right there on the floor. It was more frightening than any experience he could recall. He was going to die, he knew it.

"Yes... Sam... I don't want to call a doctor in here. They suck." Castiel took one of Sam's hands and put it on his own chest and nudged the other one onto Sam's chest. "Copy me.... just try to match my rhythm."

The next few moments were quiet except for Sam's hitched breathing as he slowly began to sync up with Castiel's slow deep breaths. Aside from the small gasp every once in a while, a consequence of crying he hadn't even known he'd done, he was finally able to calm down.

"Thanks..." Sam whispered. He was exhausted and let his hands fall. He felt free of self consciousness at that moment and rested his head on Castiel's shoulder.

"There is no need to thank me."

They stayed there until the orderly came by and sent them to bed, Sam with a stern look and Castiel with two pills that he'd apparently 'forgotten' to take during dinner.

The door clicked shut and Sam fell asleep.

~

"Hey, Dean." Sam greeted softly over the old phone located in a semi-private room that was monitored by one orderly at all times.

Sam's second full day at the hospital had been more smooth than his first. He had a private therapy session with Dr. Clark, the same man who'd interviewed him for admittance, and was told he could call Dean if he ate dinner. As much as he hated being treated like a fussy child, Sam meekly complied with the requirements and was allowed his phone privilege at the end of the day.

"Hey, Sammy. How is uh... how are you?" There was an awkward cough from Dean's end of the line.

"Dean, I want to come home." He knew he sounded pathetic, but he really hadn't thought about what it would be like when he agreed to be admitted at the hospital.

"What's wrong? Did someone hurt you? Are you in danger?"

"No... it's just different than I thought it would be. They gave me slippers that are too small. And I'm not allowed to have a blanket. It's like I'm a child who ca n't  be trusted to be alone."

"Well, you tried to kill yourself."

"Not recently!"

"That makes it better?!" The loud yell made Sam flinch from the phone before he heard Dean sigh. "Sammy, it's only been a couple of days. Give it time. You love that sharing and caring stuff and it's actually encouraged over there. Use it. Make a friend. I'm sure they aren't all crazies over there."

"Yeah, my roommate. He's pretty cool." Sam twirled the phone cord around his finger, wondering how he could not be allowed a blanket or shoe strings and yet the phone had a long enough cord to strangle three people at one time. He supposed because he was being watched the whole time he was here.

"So you did make a friend. See? So that's gotta make things easier, right? Is he... is he um... more or less sane?"

"Cas is nice. I think he's more sane than I am. Just a little awkward sometimes." He grinned as he thought of Castiel's oftentimes too formal way of speaking and how it would switch on and off as if he were at war with himself. It was a little jarring until you got used to it. And with nobody else to talk to, Sam had gotten used to it quickly.

"Well, it doesn't take much to be more sane than you." Sam heard the forced laugh and smiled at the effort Dean was putting into acting casual, as if Sam wasn't locked in a psych ward at the moment.

There was a knock on the window and Sam knew his time was up.

"Dean, they want me to go. Can I call you tomorrow?"

There was a moment's pause before Dean answered.

"Bobby and I got a hunt in a swamp tomorrow. I won't have my phone with me. We should be done by the end of the week, though. Call me then, okay?"

He was not being stabbed in the chest, but it sure felt like it. He had to remind himself that the job still needed to be done even if he was out of the game for a while. It wasn't personal.

"Y-yeah... okay."

"Good. Bye, bitch."

"Jerk."

Sam hung up the phone and left the room, waving to the orderly on his way out. He was surprised when he turned the corner and saw Castiel leaning against a wall, halfheartedly gazing at the television on the other side of the room.

"You waited for me?" Sam asked.

"Of course. How was your conversation with your brother?" Castiel asked, giving a small smile.

"He was trying not to be awkward and I begged to come home because my slippers are too small." Sam rolled his eyes.

"So it went well?"

"Yeah, it was fine. I'm just homesick." They began the slow walk back to their room, not really wanting to join in on board game night in the lounge.

"Where is home for Sam Winchester?"

"I was born in Kansas." Sam shrugged,

"Yet we are in South Dakota. Where do you call home now?"

"My brother's car." Sam shrugged. "Or my brother. Wherever we are."

"You may need to explain that to me." They reached their room and Castiel went straight for his bed, letting his slippers fall off as he got close to it. In one smooth motion, he flopped onto the bed with his legs propped up on the wall.

Sam sat down on his own bed and pried his slippers off, wishing he could just kick them away like Castiel did.

"I grew up living out of motels and our car. We traveled all over the country. Now it's just my brother and I. Part of the job... the family business." He rubbed his toes, thankful to be able to spread them out and wiggle them around.

"Family business?"

"Mmm, that's a story for another time. Maybe never." He looked up in time to see Castiel turn his blue eyes to him. His eyes were startling with their vivid color. "So didn't you want to call anyone?"

"No." Castiel looked away again. He stared at the ceiling.

"Nobody? What about-?"

"Sam, please don't ask about my family. Not yet."

Sam nodded. He could respect Castiel's need for privacy. Some things hurt too much to share.

"So... what's on the agenda for tomorrow?"

"Tuesdays and Fridays are expressive therapy days." Sam could hear the grin in Castiel's voice. "You will choose between art or musical therapy. There will be a theme."

~

The theme was "Why?"

Sam and Castiel sat across from one another at a table filled with art supplies.

"What does that even mean? Why what?" Sam asked. He stared at the pile of paints and crayons. Castiel was eagerly reaching for paints already, apparently inspired.

"Why anything.... why do you feel the way you do? Why did you try to kill yourself? Why do you still make suicide plans? Why... " Castiel murmured. He dipped his fingers in a glop of black paint and started painting without a brush.

"So what are you painting?" Sam asked as he reached for the crayons. He started doodling with the yellow.

"Why I am alone in my family." Castiel seemed so confident to Sam and, even though they'd just met three days ago, Sam found that it was easy to forget that Castiel had a reason for being here... until he said things like that.

"Oh..."

They worked in a comfortable almost silence until until one of the counselors, her nametag said Kim, came over and commented on Sam's drawing.

"Is that fire?"

"Uh yeah..." Sam answered. He hadn't started out with the intention of filling an entire sheet of paper with yellow and orange flames, but there it was.

"Are you afraid of fire?" Kim asked kindly.

"Not at all."

"What is the meaning of it?"

"Do I have to share that? It's enough that I drew something, right?"

"Of course it is. You did well expressing yourself artistically." She gave a nod and walked away.

Sam felt the burn of familiar eyes upon him and refused to look up at Castiel's questioning face, staring instead at Castiel's painting. He didn't understand the big black wings on the paper, but then he knew Castiel didn't understand the fire on his.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

That night Sam was awakened by the orderlies making their rounds. They came by every couple of hours, but the flashlights shining in the room hadn't bothered Sam yet. He was used to odd noises or lights shining in his window from growing up sleeping in a car or crappy motel rooms. He just happened to be facing the door at exactly the wrong moment this time and was startled by the light in his eyes.

The orderly waved apologetically before moving on to the next room and Sam rolled over to try to fall back to sleep again. He was halfway there when he heard Castiel's breathing pick up speed. He sounded like a panting dog and then let out a keening whine. 

“Cas? You're having a nightmare, dude. Wake up.” Sam mumbled. 

“No... Raphael...” 

Sam turned over to look at his friend. He was shining with sweat and his hands were twitching. Sam wiped a hand over his face and got up. He gingerly sat on the edge of Castiel's bed and jiggled his arm. 

“Cas... c'mon, wake up.” 

Castiel's eyes shot open and he jerked upwards, almost knocking their heads together. Sam put a hand on Castiel's shoulder, kneading the muscles in a soothing way. 

“Hey, hey, it's okay. You just had a nightmare.”

“Sam?” Castiel grabbed Sam's wrist, holding it in place until he had calmed down. “I'm safe here. I'm safe here.”

“Yeah, you are. Do you need me to get someone or...?"

“No, I'm good. Thank you for waking me.” Castiel let Sam's wrist go. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I'm good.” 

Sam recognized that he was being dismissed and retreated to his own bed again, but he stayed vigilant for more nightmares and didn't get back to sleep until much later.

~

The rest of the week was fairly dull, with group therapies, art therapies, private therapies, therapies, therapies, therapies. Growing up in a family that tried to hide their feelings, Sam never thought he would be sick of talking about his own. But it was Friday and Sam was excited to call Dean. After the first phone call, he didn't miss Dean as much as he thought he would. He still missed him, but not to the point of inducing another panic attack. He wondered if there was anyone that Castiel missed.

“Not particularly, no.” He answered between bites of his meatloaf. Sam cringed at the odd meat slice and ate his own salad and noodles. He often found himself choosing the vegetarian option at dinner. 

“Heya, Sammy.”

Sam almost choked on his food as he heard his brother's voice behind him. He turned slowly.

“Dean?” He stood up and hugged his brother tightly. Wrapped in his older brother's arms, Sam felt completely safe and the scent of the Impala clinging to Dean's body and mingling with aftershave and gun oil made him feel at home. “What are you doing here? I was going to call after dinner.”

“Well, this place was on the way back to Bobby's, and I had something for you. Besides, I missed my little brother.” Dean shrugged. He brought one hand out that he'd kept behind his back and revealed a very large pair of slippers. “I checked first. You can have these.”

Sam coughed away the lump that formed in his throat.

“Thanks. These are great.” He sat back down in his chair and hurried to rip off the smaller slippers and switch them out with the ones Dean brought. Dean sat down next to him and wrinkled his nose at Sam's choice of food.

“That was kind of you. Sam has been complaining about his slippers since he arrived.” Castiel said quietly.

“Oh! Dean, this is Castiel. He's my roommate. Cas, this is my brother, Dean.”

Dean nodded a greeting over at Castiel. “Hey.”

He stayed for a half hour before visiting hours were over. The conversation started off a little stilted, but Sam could see the effort Dean had gone through to act as if everything were normal. 

Sam didn't ask Dean to let him come home like he really wanted to, but Dean seemed to sense it anyway and assured him that he had talked to Sam's doctor about his progress and would continue to keep in contact.

“He wants to get to the root of your feelings, Sam. Says maybe you need to be more open. I actually laughed at him because you're the one who always wants to talk.” Dean chuckled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes and Sam could see the shift from awkward to guilty, something Dean did well.

“Sam, uh... did I- I mean, I know I kinda- I really pushed you away when Dad died.” A hand ran through his short hair, making it stick up. “Would it have been any better if I'd been- God, Sammy.... did I do this?”

“What? Dean, no. No. Just... no. This is all me. It's nothing you did or could have prevented. It's just something I need to work on. I get that. I'm trying.”

“Yeah? Good... good.”

The rest of the time went by quickly and Castiel remained nearby, but stayed quiet. Sam knew he was being polite and trying not to interrupt their brotherly bonding, but he wished Castiel would have joined in more. After all, he was Sam's only friend within the hospital walls and Sam wanted Dean to know him as well.

They said goodbye with another hug and Dean patted him on the back.

“Seeya later, Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

~

“Your brother seems like a good person. He is very protective of you.” Castiel said as they waited in their room for the door to be locked for the night. 

“How could you tell that from one visit?”

“The way he watches you when you are not looking. The slippers he brought you.” Sam didn't miss the way Castiel scowled at his own, which lay at the foot of his bed.

“Do you have any older brothers? I know you come from a large family.”

“Yes, they are all older than me.”

“Is Raphael one of them?” Sam knew he was walking on thin ice by asking that, and he was right. Castiel actually turned to glare at him.

“How do you know that name?” 

“You said his name when you were dreaming the other night. Did he... did he hurt you?”

“Not in the way you are thinking, but yes.” Castiel closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “He wasn't the only one, but he did take charge of that particular... decision.”

“Does he have anything to do with the black wings you painted?”

“What is the fire about, Sam?” 

Sam forced himself not to flinch at the abrupt turnaround from Castiel. Considering this was the most he'd gotten Castiel to talk about himself, he figured he could share some more of his own crap. It was better than talking to the shrink. All they did wasanalyze and present false sympathy. A friend had a much better ear.

“My mom died in a fire. It started in my nursery.” Sam confessed.

Castiel looked at him, as if waiting for Sam to say more.

“And then my girlfriend died in a fire in our bedroom.”

Castiel's eyes narrowed, not with accusation but with curiosity.

“You didn't...?”

“No! No, but it was my fault anyway. The thing- the guy that set the fire the first time was there to do something to me. And the fire with Jess- it was exactly the same. If I hadn't been born, my mom wouldn't have died. If I had never met Jess, she would be alive. And my dad and my brother would have been happier. Really, sometimes I just don't see the point in me being here.” Sam gasped and covered his mouth. He'd never actually said it that bluntly before. Never even thought it with those words. But he still felt it was true.

“So you do want to die...” It sounded almost as if Castiel were speaking to himself, he was so quiet. 

“I don't want to die. I just don't feel like I should be allowed to fight so hard to live.” At that moment the orderly announced it was time for bed, made sure Castiel took his pills, and locked the door.

Sam figured he had ruined the conversation anyway with his confession. The room was silent save for the rustling of fabric as Castiel got himself situated on his bed and smoothed his pillow surface before laying his head down upon it. Sam sighed and followed suit, punching his pillow until it had the right amount of give.

“Sam?” 

Sam turned his head to the left where he could see Castiel looking at him. The hall light shone through the window on the door, casting Castiel's face in a warm light.

“Yeah?”

“If you can't do it for yourself, I'll fight for you to live.”

Sam felt a catch in his throat, surprised by the compassion in Castiel's voice.

“Th- thanks, Cas.” 

~

“The staff has noticed you and your roommate have been getting along quite well.”

Sam looked at Dr. Clark from his hard plastic chair. It had been two weeks and Sam was still uncomfortable in his private sessions with the doctor, and it showed as he shifted awkwardly in his seat, not meeting Dr. Clark's eyes.

“Yeah, Cas is really mellow and nice. He's easy to talk to.”

“While it's not easy to talk to others?” The doctor encouraged.

“Right. No offense to you and your staff, but it's hard to open up to someone when you know it's just their job to listen. They don't actually care.” Sam picked at a piece of lint from his sweat pants, not looking up since he felt like he'd just insulted the man.

“Sorry.” He sighed.

“You don't need to apologize for your feelings, Sam. Though some would argue that not being emotionally invested helps us remain impartial and non-judgemental."

“That's bull and you know it. It just means you can't show it. Doesn't mean you aren't judging someone silently in your own head.” Sam smiled to himself as he said it, remembering Jess had said something similar to Sam as she vented about a psych class lecture one evening. Then he remembered why he was here talking to a doctor instead of to her and his throat swelled with tears that he still held in even now. He swallowed hard, not realizing how long his silence had been going on.

“Sam? What are you thinking about?”

“Jess.”

“Your girlfriend from Stanford?”

“Yeah. She was studying psychology before she- before the fire. She changed her major because of me. When I... when I tried to kill myself, she decided she wanted to help other people so that she could maybe prevent someone else's possible death.” Sam confessed.

“She sounds like a very caring person.”

“She was. She would have helped so many people, but she can't now. She's dead because of me.”

“Because of you?”

Sam's hand froze in middle of picking a piece of lint, realizing he'd let himself relax too much and needed to stiffen up and censor himself better. Demon talk would get him a private room with a straitjacket, he guessed.

“I wasn't there to protect her, Doc. I should have been. And now... how many people do I have to lose just because I can't save them?” He thought of the most recent of deaths, his father. He'd shot him in the leg to keep him alive, but he died in the end anyway... and the demon still got away.

“Sam, it's not your job to save everyone.”

Sam just looked at him. Dr. Clark didn't know what he was talking about. 

~

That night Sam was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice Castiel return from the shower until one of Castiel's kicked slippers hit the frame of his bed with a soft thunk.

He turned his head to the other man, smiling a little at his hair. It was still wet and sticking up in all sorts of random places from being towel dried. He watched as Castiel fell into his own bed and put his feet on the wall. When he was settled, he turned to return Sam's gaze, his face relaxed and serious as always.

“You haven't spoken much since your session with Dr. Clark.” He observed.

Sam immediately turned away, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Apparently, I have a hero complex to go along with my low self esteem and depression.” He growled through clenched teeth.

“You disagree?” Castiel wasn't smiling, but Sam could hear amusement in his voice.

“Aside from seeming very contrary... I'm not worthy but I have to save everyone. You know how it's not paranoia if everyone is actually out to get you?” Sam asked. He rolled onto his side and held his head up with one arm so he could look at Castiel without twisting his neck.

“I am... aware of the saying.”

“Well, it's kind of like that,” Sam said, not willing to get more detailed than that.

“Sam...”

“Yeah?” Sam watched as Castiel moved his feet up the wall in a walking motion and waited for him to speak.

“I don't think you have a hero complex, but I do think you are a hero.”

Sam was taken aback. He was constantly surprised at the things Castiel would say. Surprised, humbled, flattered, but almost always good. Castiel always made him feel better.

“Thanks.”

“I feel safe with you.” Castiel added. He faced up towards the ceiling and didn't meet Sam's eyes.

Sam didn't know why, but that statement flooded him with a warmth and joy that he hadn't felt in a long time. 

~

“Hey, Sammy. How's the loony bin?” Dean asked upon answering the phone. Sam chuckled, glad that Dean no longer sounded as if he were afraid to talk to him, like any wrong word would send Sam off the deep end.

“Really, Dean?”

“Hey, I call it like I see it.” He could almost see Dean shrugging in his mind.

“Things are fine.” 

“Yeah? Because your doc says you are all but silent in your group therapies.”

“Well, I can't exactly tell them much. It's hard enough trying to censor myself in private sessions.”

“I know, Sam. Just... try. Doesn't your friend talk in group? Just go after he does and follow his example.”  
Sam threw his head back and laughed loudly.

“Cas is the quietest of everyone, including me. He barely tells me anything and I think I'm the only person he talks to.”

“What's so special about you? Fuck... I didn't mean it like that, Sammy.”

“I know, Dean.” Sam twirled the phone cord around a finger as he spoke. “Cas says he feels safe with me.”

Telling someone about it made it seem cheesy, but Sam couldn't keep the smile off his face as he said it.

“Well, you must love hanging out with him if he's full of chick flick moments like that.” Dean's tone was teasing, but he was correct. Sam did love hanging out with Castiel, even in their current situation. 

There was a soft knock and Sam saw the staff member give him the 'time is up' signal.

“Time to go. Sorry, Dean.”

“Hey! Sam, this is the first time you didn't ask to come home. Take care, little brother.” There was a click before Sam could respond. 

“Huh...” Sam thought about Dean's words as he exited the phone room. Dean had been right. Sam hadn't even thought of asking to come home. It wasn't because he didn't want to. He didn't actually like being locked up here. 

Upon turning the corner, Sam saw Castiel standing against the wall. When Castiel looked up and saw him approaching, his face seemed to light up and his eyes were bright. Sam smiled and forgot what he'd been thinking about.

~

The next few weeks went by quickly for Sam. He was getting used to the routine and hated to admit that he almost found comfort in it. There were a few phone conversations with Dean, and he always ended his day happier when he got to talk to his brother.

Another weekend arrived and Sam slept in until the orderly unlocked the door and made sure they were awake. He looked over at Castiel with a sleepy smile and was taken aback at the scowl that adorned his friend's face. 

“You okay?” Sam asked, concerned because he knew they'd gone to sleep on good terms and he had yet to see Castiel in a less than amiable mood. The frown slid away and was replaced with a twitch of a smile.

“Yes, I am fine. I didn't get a very restful sleep.” Castiel's eyes were downcast and Sam figured he must be remembering a nightmare from the middle of the night.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“There is nothing to talk about. I woke up and was unable to get back to a deep enough level of sleep to feel rested. I'm... used to it. I never slept well before I came here.” Castiel sighed as he slid his feet into his slippers. Sam smirked at Castiel's signature shuffle and thought maybe he should ask Dean to bring Castiel a smaller pair. Before he realized it, Castiel was already out of the room and Sam hurried to put on his own slippers and chase him down.

“Hey, wait up!”

“Sam, you've been here long enough now. I am sure you can find the dining room without my assistance.”

The derision in Castiel's voice stopped Sam in his tracks and his face burned with humiliation and hurt feelings. He'd thought they were getting along well, but apparently Sam had been a bother without meaning to be.

“I- sorry.” Sam spun on his heel and returned to their room. One missed breakfast surely wouldn't be enough for the doctors to be concerned about. It wasn't like he was one of the many who had prescription meds to take during breakfast. 

He used his time alone and took a shower. He didn't bother trying to dry his hair, letting the curling ends drip onto his shoulders and soaking his shirt. He didn't realize he'd spent so much time in the bathroom until he walked out and saw Castiel was back.  
Sam paused to look closer. Castiel was on his bed with his knees drawn in as tight as possible, making himself look smaller. He was chewing on his thumbnail.

“Cas...”

Castiel whirled around, almost falling off the bed. 

“Sam! Sam, I am- I apologize. I don't know why I... I'm sorry. I don't want to lose your friendship. Please. I just need this to be okay. Out of everything, I need this to be okay. I don't have anyone- I mean, not that you are a repl- I just need.... please don't hate me.” He was up, standing in front of Sam. His hands kept trying to reach out and touch, but he kept pulling them back as if he were afraid of being burned.

“Cas, stop.” Sam gripped the other man's shoulders firmly.

“I made you miss breakfast.” 

“It's just breakfast. I'm fine.” 

“You're not fine. You're definitely not fine. Not because of breakfast though, but you should have had breakfast and I didn't even bring anything back for you.” 

Castiel's voice grew louder as he spoke and his breathing sped up. Sam could tell he was on his way to hyperventilating and he needed to nip it in the bud.

“Castiel! Stop... everything is fine. I'm okay and I'm not mad at you.” His hands trailed up from Castiel's shoulders and rested at his cheeks. He held Castiel's face. “Look at me, please!”

He tried to get Castiel's wide blue eyes to focus on him.

“I can't... I can't breathe.” Castiel gasped. “Sorry, Sam. Sorry.”

“Stop saying that. Remember when you helped me through my panic attack when I first got here?” Sam's thumbs rubbed soothingly on Castiel's cheek bones. “I want to help you. I need you to focus on something. Anything so that you-”

And then there were no more words as his mouth was covered. Castiel's lips pressed against Sam's and he lost his train of thought. It was so unexpected, but he let himself give in and he parted his lips to let the insistent tongue enter. He could feel Castiel's warm breath and he inhaled it as if it were his life force. 

It was over too soon as Castiel came to himself and pulled away. Their eyes met in silence, both afraid to break whatever spell had just come over them. 

Castiel was the first to look away.

“I... apologize. I don't know...” His voice was still breathless though the hyperventilating had stopped.

“Cas, it's okay.” Sam tucked his damp hair behind his ears. “It's okay.”

~

The next day arrived and Sam tried to ignore the elephant in the room. 

Since it was the weekend, there were no scheduled activities and the only required therapies were private ones for the patients who had them every single day instead of certain days during the week. 

Neither of them mentioned the kiss. Sam wondered if Castiel had enjoyed it as much as he had. Then he cursed himself because, of course he wouldn't have enjoyed it. Castiel had been panicking and had reached out physically to someone he trusted. It was just some sort of instinct, Sam was certain. But what instinct makes a person reach out and kiss whoever was nearest? So maybe Castiel actually had feelings for Sam, but Sam wondered if he had feelings for Castiel. 

“Fuck.” He muttered. Of course he had feelings for Castiel and he knew exactly what those feelings were developing into, but he didn't know if it was okay to act on them or if Castiel wanted him to act at all. He also wondered if it was taking advantage of someone in a mental hospital if you were also a patient. His head was beginning to hurt as his brain circled around and around.

No matter what way he cared about Castiel, Sam knew he cared. And that was why he was content to stay silent and not push Castiel for answers. Still, there was not much else to do and neither Sam nor Castiel were allowed in the yard yet, so they ended up playing chess until lunch came around.

Sam noticed that Castiel seemed a bit twitchy and nervous. He was biting his fingernails nonstop and Sam noticed he was almost being used as a shield by the smaller man whenever other people came near. It was very unlike the Castiel that Sam had come to know. 

“Not this table. Over there.” Castiel whispered, after they got their lunch trays. Sam was halfway to a seated position when he stopped and raised back up to his full height. He followed over to the corner of the room where it was almost empty and watched as Castiel took the very corner seat. 

Sam furrowed his brow slightly as he recognized the vigilant behavior he'd learned from his own family. Castiel was was making sure that he could see everyone and every single exit. Sam just didn't know why.

“Cas, you're not eating.” Sam gestured to Castiel's full tray of food. Castiel had been too busy watching and leaning to one side to look behind Sam to put any food in his mouth.

“What? Oh, I'm not hungry. My stomach feels slightly ill.” Castiel wrinkled his nose and pushed his tray away.

“Aren't you the one always telling me things that will concern the staff? I'm sure that returning a full tray will alert them to something.” Sam tried Castiel's favorite tactic.

“Well, yes. Why do you think I'm still here? I need to stay here to stay safe. Nobody can find me here.” Castiel was still distracted with his people watching or Sam guessed he probably never would have let that little bit of information out. He pretended to ignore that for now, filing it away in his memory for later.

“Are you getting sick?”

“What”

“Your stomach,” Sam reminded him.

“Oh... no. I don't believe so. Just...” Castiel trailed off, attention gone again, and Sam sighed.

After they were finished with their lunch, well after Sam was finished with his lunch, he thought they could spend some time at the piano. Castiel had confessed to having a talent for the instrument but Sam had yet to hear him play. 

Unfortunately, Castiel wanted nothing else but to go back to their room and hang out there. Sam acquiesced since he could see Castiel's agitation wasn't going away. Maybe he just needed a little isolation. Sam could understand that. 

“Cas, what's going on with you?” Sam asked as he flopped into his bed. Castiel was still shuffling to his bed, slippers dragging on the linoleum floor. He kicked them off so hard, they went flying somewhere underneath his bed before gingerly sitting down and bringing his feet up to sit cross-legged. He glanced at Sam quickly before looking down at his legs.

“I don't know.”

“You don't know? Well, what do you think?”

“I feel... I don't feel safe. I feel like they know where I am and will come for me. Sam, they can't take me away. I can't go back. Please.” 

Sam jumped from his bed and sat down next to Castiel, putting his arms around him.

“Hey, hey, hey... nobody is taking you away.” He rubbed circles on Castiel's back. “Who is it you don't want to find you?”

“Raphael... Michael, Uriel, Naomi... my family.” His blue eyes looked darker to Sam, more like sapphires. Usually they were bright and clear. He was frightened of his family.

“What did they do to you?”

“They- she- they cast me out. Naomi was trying to 'fix' me. But I remembered this time and I tried to warn the others, but they wouldn't listen. And Raphael was yelling. And then I was falling.”

“He push you off some stairs or something?”

“No, he-...” Castiel's eyes widened and his mouth hung open for a moment. “Yes. Something like that.”

Sam's eyebrows twitched upward for a moment. He knew Castiel was going to say something else before agreeing. He wondered what his siblings could have done to traumatize the man so much. He held tight as he felt a shiver run down Castiel's body.

“I got you.” He murmured softly. “Nobody else is going to hurt you, I promise.” Without thinking of his actions, he stretched his neck and kissed Castiel's temple. He held him close and rocked him until he felt Castiel's weight sinkng into him and knew that the other man had fallen asleep. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that it was still early afternoon.

Sam gently laid Castiel down into a more comfortable position on the bed and then grabbed the book he'd snagged from the activity room the other day when Dean visited. He got comfy and kept his senses alert for any sounds from his friend as he read his book.

~

The next day was much the same with Castiel not getting much sleep during the night and shifting from irritated and angry to remorseful. The worst, Sam thought, was the fear. He didn't know what was happening or why, but it tore him up when Castiel would become scared that someone was after him.

When the fear came, Sam would hold him tight and rock. Tomorrow was Tuesday and he knew Castiel had his private therapy sessions on Tuesdays. Sam couldn't decide if he wanted the doctors to find out or if he wanted to help Castiel keep this problem hidden. 

It didn't really matter what he wanted. They would find out anyway.

In the middle of the night between Monday and Tuesday, Sam awoke to Castiel's quiet sobs. He looked over and saw the other man curled in on himself, arms reaching as far behind his back as they could.

“Cas? Cas, what's wrong?” Sam hurried over to the other bed, ignoring the cold tile under his bare feet. 

“I can't get them off. I need them gone.” 

“What? What do you need gone? I can help.” Sam gently maneuvered Castiel around and ran a hand down his smooth back, not finding anything.

“My wings. If my wings are back, then my grace is back. If my grace is back, they'll find me. They'll find you! Get them off!” Castiel's voice raised in volume as he reached inside his shirt, clawing at his shoulder blades with his fingernails. 

“Cas, stop! There's nothing there. You're hurting yourself. Just stop.” Sam grabbed his wrists and tried to hold him still, but he struggled to get free. Sam held him tightly, trying to impart some sense of safety into Castiel's mind. 

“Cas?” He asked, only a small tremor in his voice. A low moan started deep in Castiel's chest and sounded almost supernatural combined with his already deep voice. 

“Hey... it's okay. Everything will be okay.” Sam ran his hands through Castiel's sweat soaked hair and noticed out of the corner of his eye that Castiel's fingers were twitching. Something was building and it took Sam too long to put the pieces together.

Before he could figure it out, Castiel's whole body was rigid. Muscles were so tight that he could see Castiel's legs and arms vibrating. The worst part was the sound coming from his mouth. Weak gasping noises that sounded almost like hiccups as his chest and throat tried unsuccessfully to work through the stiff muscles.

“No... no, no, no, shit!... Hey! Someone get in here!” Sam ran to the door and pounded on it. An orderly and a male nurse came running and tried to tell Sam to quiet down before he was sedated.

“No, he's having a seizure!” Sam yelled, desperately. He backed away from the window and pointed. The door was opened immediately and Sam backed away from the flurry of activity that came next. 

There was a lot of yelling Sam, never one to back out of scary situations, curled up on his own bed and pressed his hands over his ears. 

Some more staff members ran into the room, one of them pulling a stretcher. He watched the scene in a sort of silence, only hearing his own pulse and muffled voices. He saw them inject something and Castiel's body eventually relaxed before they transferred him to the stretcher.

Within minutes Sam was left alone in the room, but not for long. Or was it? Time was strange right now as he was trying to figure out what happened. Shakily, he dropped his hands from his ears and let out the breath he'd been holding. 

“Sam Winchester?”

He looked up and saw Sherri, one of the group therapists standing in the doorway. She wasn't dressed in her uniform, so she must have been on call, but not on the clock. He wondered how close she lived that she was able to get here so quickly.

“Sam, do you want to talk about what happened here tonight?” She approached and sat on the bed next to him.

“Not really.” He mumbled. 

“Are you sure? I did come here just to talk to you.” She smiled.

“You really shouldn't have had to. I'm sorry.”

“Well, I did. And had you ever witnessed a seizure before?”

“Actually, yes.” Sam almost laughed. With the countless injuries he and his family had gotten through the years, he'd seen one seizure and been victim to two.

“Doesn't get any easier, huh?” 

“No, it really doesn't. Hey, do you know what's wrong with him?” Sam asked, desperate for information.

“Not yet... but do you know anything that might give the doctors some clues?”

He really didn't want to betray Castiel, but if his life was in danger...

“He's been off for a couple days. Not sleeping... moody... scared. And right before... he thought he had wings. He was trying to tear them off. I grabbed him to- I couldn't have caused it, could I?” Sam's eyes widened as he asked. She shook her head.

“No, you didn't do anything to cause his seizure. Do you think you'll be able to sleep the rest of the night?”

Sam's pause was answer enough and she produced a pre-filled syringe from her pocket.

“Maybe this will help. Just a light sedative, but it may cause you to oversleep in the morning because of how late it is that I'm giving it to you.” She didn't ask, but she also didn't order Sam or force it on him. It gave him some feeling of control and he nodded and held his arm out. 

“It works fast.” She said as she stuck his arm and plunged the medicine in. 

She wasn't lying. He could feel his head swimming as she helped him lie down on his bed. He was out before she even left.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam woke slowly, turning his head to the left. It had become habit to turn and look for Castiel, who would always be sitting on his own bed watching Sam. He was instantly awake when he saw the empty bed and remembered the events from the middle of the night.

“Shit...” He muttered, wiping a hand down his face as if it could cleanse him of the memory of Castiel tearing at his own back for imaginary wings that he wanted gone(,) or the even worse memory of Castiel's body seizing and the sound that escaped from his mouth. A rhythmic gasping and catching that sounded like painful evil hiccups. No, he didn't really want to think about that.

“Sam Winchester?” An orderly peeked their head in the door that Sam noticed was open. He must have slept late, just as the doctor had predicted.

“Yeah?” He figured the orderly must have been waiting outside the door and heard his mumbled curse.

“We were informed that you were given a sedative and were allowed to sleep in. A breakfast has been saved for you and Dr. Clark is ready for a one-on-one within an hour of your say so.”

“I though my private session was in the afternoon.” 

The orderly gave him a look that seemed to say 'seriously?' in the most sarcastic of ways.

“You had a traumatic experience. You get a private session ASAP.”

Sam scoffed silently. He'd seen much more traumatic things in his lifetime. If they knew what he'd seen in his life, with his family's line of work, he didn't think they would bother with the extra efforts they were making. Or maybe they would because they'd think he was completely insane. They'd never let him out of this place if he'd started talking about demons and ghosts. 

He shrugged and pushed up from the bed. At least he might be able to get some information about Castiel from Dr. Clark.

~

“So, Sam... I understand there was an incident in your room last night.” Dr. Clark's soothing voice did nothing except irritate Sam today. 

“If by 'incident', you mean that my friend hallucinated wings and then had a seizure... then yeah, there was an incident.”

Dr. Clark ignored the sarcastic tone of voice and continued.

“'How did that make you feel?”

“How did- how do you think it made me feel? I'm worried about him. Nobody has told me, is he even okay? What happened to him?” Sam leaned forward on the hard plastic chair he'd dragged from the corner of the room over to where the doctor liked to sit. There were several different seats to choose from in the office, most of them fluffy and soft with thick cushions. Sam preferred to keep his body alert and ready for action, even though he was certain the doctor noticed and made some sort of note about it. 

“Castiel is fine. There is no need to worry about him right now.”

“Well, that's bullshit. Doc, people don't have seizures for no reason. He's not fine and I'm scared for him.”

Dr. Clark sat back in his chair with his hands steepled in front of his mouth. He exhaled loudly through his nose before speaking softly.

“Be that as it may, there is a such thing as doctor/patient confidentiality. It is law even in settings like this one. There will be no more information given to you regarding Castiel's mental and/or physical state of being. You can ask him when he is back from the medical wing.”

Properly chastised, Sam slumped back in his chair with a red face.

“Yes, sir.”

“Ah, let's talk about that. I'm actually surprised it took so long today. It has been noticed that you shut down and operate in an almost militaristic fashion when your confidence has been given a shake.”

Sam blinked, his eyes wide with surprise.

“I do?” It made sense, given his upbringing. He'd just never noticed it about himself. He wondered if Dean had noticed.

~

So his one-on-one with Dr. Clark had gotten Sam no information. All he'd gotten was an analysis of his upbringing and how he'd grown up too fast and never got a chance to be a child. Well, that was true and not true at the same time. It depended on whether or not their father had been home at the time because Dean always tried to give him a proper childhood when he could.

Speaking of Dean, he'd been informed that Dean was called about the traumatic event that Sam had witnessed and he thought maybe he should talk to his brother to make sure he wasn't freaking out if they didn't give him all the facts.  
He called first thing after dinner.

“Sammy!” Dean's voice was cheerful.

“Dean? I thought they would have called you...” Sam was confused. He'd expected an angry or worried voice on the other end.

“The doc? Yeah, he called. Said your roommate had a medical emergency and you saw it happen. I figured it'd be fine. Not like we haven't seen our share of shit, right?”

“Y-yeah.” That actually made sense and Sam couldn't figure out why he'd been so worried about Dean's reaction. Maybe because he wasn't handling it as well as everyone thought he was, or thought he should be. To them, Castiel was just his roommate. They didn't know he was more, and Sam wasn't sure when he had become more.

“And Doc is impressed with you. Says you should be able to come home. Just a few evaluations and then we can spring you out of there.”

“He... you guys just talked about this today?” Sam cringed.

“A few days, actually. The latest shit storm just kinda cemented it. Doc likes how you've handled yourself and I don't want you to be stuck there with that crap.” 

Sam wondered if Dean wanted him away from there because he thought Sam was fragile. They'd both seen seizures before. Or maybe Dean thought Sam was associating it with other people who had died in his room. Mom and Jessica. But Cas wasn't dead and there was no fire.

“Sammy? You still there?”

“Wha-? Oh. Yeah, sorry.”

“Well, sound a little more excited than that. You're finally coming home.”

“I'm very excited, Dean. Sorry, I'm just tired. Big day.” He was aware of how lame he sounded. How big could a day actually get in a mental hospital? But Dean bought it and Sam left the phone for the next patient to use.

Arriving at his room, Sam went to Castiel's bed instead of his own and toed his slippers off. Turning around on the mattress, he laid his body the way he'd seen Castiel do many time and put his feet up on the cold wall. The mattress smelled like him. 

What if Sam was released before Castiel came back? Sam wondered if he's be allowed to visit of if only family members were allowed. The staff knew Sam, so he couldn't just use a fake ID. Dean would probably have them out across the country on more hunts anyway.

If Castiel wasn't back before Sam got out, they'd probably never see each other again.

The realization hit him like a punch in the stomach.

“Fuck.”

He rubbed at his chest as a familiar tightness wrapped around him. He brought his feet down and sat up, hoping it would aid him in taking a deeper breath. Somewhere in his mind, he knew what was happening. Panic attack. But there was no Castiel around to keep him steady. Nobody was there to help him breathe and the tightness turned to pain and he was certain he would die right there on Castiel's bed. 

As black spots began to dance in his vision, he thought he heard a voice yelling. That couldn't be true, though, because he was alone. And he wasn't breathing. And then there was nothing.

~

He awoke on his own bed, head pounding. A cold hand wrapped around his wrist and he opened his eyes to see Doctor Sherri, the same therapist from the other night. She was staring at her watch as she held his wrist, checking his pulse. 

“Am I going to live?” It was meant as a joke, but his voice came out rougher than planned and he winced.

“Seems that way.” She smiled down at him and let go. 

“How long was I out?” 

“Not long. As soon as you passed out, your body relaxed and your breathing settled down again. Unfortunately, this will have to be recorded in your chart. Do you want to talk about what may have triggered an anxiety attack?” She took a few steps and sat down on Castiel's bed, staying out of Sam's personal space and in his comfort zone. 

Sam sat up and wrapped his arms around himself, not caring how it looked. It made him feel better and he was beginning to not give a shit what anyone thought of it. His legs were criss-crossed and he stared at one of his big toes.

“I don't know what caused it,” he lied through his teeth. He could feel her eyes on him and he hunched over a little bit, as if it would hide him away.

“Sam, we can help you best if you're open with us.”

“I don't know, I swear. I just felt like I couldn't breathe. Maybe it's from being inside all the time.” He heard the coils creak as the doctor stood from the bed. 

“Maybe we could get you some time in the yard. You have enough good points on your record.” She approached and put a hand on Sam's shoulder. “Get some sleep. Maybe you just need some time before you can talk. I'll see you in group tomorrow.”

Sam kept his eyes down as he heard the door open for her and then lock after she left. He hadn't realized it was late enough for the doors to be shut. It must have happened while he was out. With a sigh, he uncrossed his legs, wiggling his toes as circulation was restored again.

“Damn. Guess my charts gonna have more dings in it while Cas isn't here to help. May not even get out like Dean-” Sam stopped in his out loud thoughts as a plan formed in his mind. He could make it so he'd be sure to see Castiel again. Castiel, himself, had actually told him exactly how to make sure his stay at the hospital was extended. All Sam would need to do was the things he'd been avoiding.

With a smile on his face, Sam laid his head down on the bed again and relaxed. Knowing that he would see Cas again helped him relax enough to get to sleep.

~

Sam woke early in the morning. His door was still closed. He sighed and looked to the side out of habit. The empty bed jarred him until he remembered where Castiel was. Then he remembered his plan from last night.

“Hmm... guess I can sleep in if I'm going through with this...” So he turned over towards the wall and let himself drift back into dreams once more.

It didn't feel like he was asleep very long before he was startled awake again by someone talking to him. 

“Hey, Winchester.” Tim, Sam's favorite orderly, had poked his head in and Sam looked at him with questioning eyes. “Breakfast is almost over. You might want to get up before you starve.”

He was only looking out for Sam, he knew that. And he always had a smile and treated Sam like a person, not a patient. So it sucked that Sam needed to lie to him.

“That's okay, Tim. I'm not very hungry. I'll just stay here until group.”

Tim leaned back to look both ways in the hallway before speaking again.

“Dude, you know the doctors don't like people skipping meals.”

“Maybe I don't care what they like or don't like anymore.” Sam shrugged.

“Alright. Hope you feel better.” Tim gave the door frame a pat before continuing on with his job. 

Sam glanced at the clock and saw he had two hours before he needed to be at group therapy. He got up and went to Castiel's bed instead. He sat down and let himself imagine that Castiel was lying right next to him with his feet on the wall. He'd be staring at the ceiling as he'd talk to Sam in that gravelly voice that always sounded so serious. His eyes would stay on the ceiling, only drifting to look at Sam when he needed to emphasize a point or when Sam's physical mannerisms showed a truth that his voice tried to hide.

Eyes closed, Sam hugged Castiel's pillow. He breathed in his scent and let his body lean to one side until he was lying in a curled ball around the pillow. He wished he'd realized how important Castiel was to him before he was taken away. Before whatever happened to him. And he still didn't know if he was okay... not really, no matter what the doctors told him.

When the clock inched closer to time for group, Sam got up. He set Castiel's pillow nicely in its spot just in case he was released from the medical wing while Sam was gone. Then he headed down the hall to the small room that his group therapy met in. 

He was the first one there, so he grabbed a chair and waited for the room to fill, wishing it was like anonymous group meetings outside of hospitals. People usually got cookies and coffee. And right now he was wishing his plan didn't involve skipping meals. 

“Sam, you're early.” Sherri greeted him with a smile when she entered the room. He shrugged and wrapped his arms around himself, waiting as the rest of the group slowly trickled in by clusters of two or three. Friends and roommates like he and Castiel.

“So...” Sherri leaned forward in her chair, elbows on knees. “Does anybody have anything they'd like to talk about?”

A small girl named Chelsea raised her hand and talked about her mother's latest visit. It wasn't a good visit. The mother had complained that the hospital was making her daughter get fat again. Chelsea was in the hospital for an eating disorder. 

There were murmurs of empathy and her friend pulled her in for a hug. Sherri gave her words of wisdom and told her that she was proud of how Chelsea wasn't going to let her mother's words affect her recovery.

“Who else needs to get something off their chest?” There was a moment of silence before she looked straight at Sam. “Sam? You've had a scary and exciting few days. Do you want to talk about how you feel?”

“Uh...” He shrank into his chair under everyone's eyes. It was so easy to give into the feelings of doubt, low self-esteem, and worthlessness when you let yourself. He realized somewhere in himself that the fact that the feelings were so close to the surface and readily available for him was probably one of his problems, but he could fix that later when he and Castiel were together again.

“Sam?”

“Not really...” 

“Come on, Sam. Without your roommate around, you must be itching to talk to somebody. Talk to us.”

Sam wanted to glare at the therapist for pressuring him. Talking wasn't going to solve anything. But he just didn't have the energy to fight right now.

“I... I couldn't save him. I mean, he's not gone forever... right? I know that. But I knew something was wrong and did nothing about it. I'm worthless. Can't save anyone.” Then he shut down. He didn't listen to what Sherri or the group had to say to him and he didn't participate for the rest of the hour.

After group therapy was over, he wandered the halls without a purpose until lunch time. When he got his tray of food, he realized he wasn't hungry anymore and dumped the whole thing in the garbage. He could feel a heavy darkness falling over him. It was so easy to give in, and he almost forgot that it was part of his plan. That the desperate hopelessness he was feeling was supposed to be faked for the sake of the doctors. It was easy to let the feelings overwhelm him and take over.  
Expressive therapy was especially terrible for Sam. He missed Castiel's wings. He also hated Castiel's wings. Those damn things that he'd been freaking out about before he started seizing. 

Sam took the paints and he painted wings covered in blood. 

~

The next morning, Sam slept through breakfast without even trying. The thing that woke him was the painful grumble in his stomach. He'd eaten a small bit at dinner the other night, but that was all for the whole day and it seemed he would need to wait until lunch if he wanted to do anything about it.

Pressing his hand into his stomach as if it would stop the growling, Sam opened his gritty eyes. He was facing his left, eyes pointed directly at Castiel's empty bed. The pain in his chest suddenly overshadowed the pain in his stomach. He knew the doctors would say he was too codependent on his roommate, but he'd always been that way to some point. Even when he tried so damn hard to be independent and alone, he needed Dean. And now he needed Castiel.

With a groan, Sam pushed himself up from bed and tried to remember what day it was. Thursday. A mostly free day except for another expressive therapy session after lunch. Until then, he could just stay in bed. There wasn't much he felt like doing. He didn't have anyone to play games with and the book next to his bed didn't seem all that interesting anymore. 

Before he could fall into a light doze, there was a knock on the door frame. He sighed, getting ready to tell Tim to leave him alone, and then opened his eyes and saw Dean standing there with a worried frown.

“Can I come in?”

“Dean? Yeah. Sorry, yeah.” Sam sat up and scooted back on his bed, making room for Dean. “What's up? We're not leaving now... are we?”

“No. I actually wanted to ask what was up with you? And why I got a call asking if skipping meals was a normal reaction to stress for you? Which... it is. Always has been.” Dean asked as he sat down and ran a hand through his short hair.

“Oh. So they made you come in?”

“They didn't make me. I wanted to. If you aren't eating, then it's something big. And it's almost ten in the morning and you're still in bed. Tell me that's not unusual for you.”

“Dean, it's nothing.”

“It's something, Sammy. Doc's saying if this doesn't work itself out, he'll need to re-think your release. I mean, yeah I can overrule him unless he feels you're a danger to yourself... but I'm not going to if you really need to stay.”

Sam was quiet under his brother's inquisitive eyes. He picked at his cuticles. 

“What the hell, Sam? Did the hospital make everything worse? Are you gonna- have you tried...” Dean sighed. “You're not gonna try to kill yourself, are you?” 

“No!" Sam caught himself when he saw the smallest flinch in Dean's eyes. "Sorry... no.”

“Okay, fine.” Dean seemed to realize Sam wasn't going to tell him any more than that and settled for changing the topic. “This bed sucks.”

“It's no worse than most of the motel beds... and it's cleaner.” 

“Eh... it's smaller.” Dean hadn't been in that room since the day he dropped Sam off, usually visiting in the recreation room. Nothing was different about it except that Sam felt more relaxed instead of terrified and didn't feel like he would jump at the smallest of startling sounds. 

They passed the time with small talk and, when lunch time came, Sam's appetite had returned somewhat. Dean stayed through, sitting with Sam in the cafeteria, until the meal was through. Sam knew Dean wanted to be sure Sam ate and he was thankful for his brother's concern and thoughtfulness. 

With a hug, they parted and Sam's smile stayed for another five minutes after that. Then he remembered that he was alone again and he unenthusiastically went to his expressive therapy. He chose music today, knowing he could just sit and listen to the others experiment and not have to join in. 

Sam skipped dinner and slept straight through the night. He found that sleeping made time go by faster. And it did... for the next three days. 

~

Sam awoke on Monday to the itchy feeling of being watched. Instinctively, he reached under his pillow for a weapon and then remembered where he was. He opened his eyes.

Castiel sat on his own bed, head tilted as he studied Sam carefully. Sam blinked, wanting to be sure he was seeing correctly.

“Cas?”

Castiel nodded once and Sam scrambled out of his bed. He dropped to his knees in front of Castiel, wanting to examine him. His hands flew up and down over Castiel's body, hovering over everything but afraid to touch.

“You’re back. Are you okay? God, Cas... what happened?”

“Sam...” Castiel's hands reached up to hold Sam's face and Sam stilled. He could feel his pulse fluttering against Castiel's palms and he let himself be calmed by their warmth. He looked up into the blue eyes he'd missed so much, but Castiel didn't smile. His eyes were narrowed and his lips were pursed in concentration.

“Sam, what has happened to you?”

Sam pulled back from Castiel and stood above him.

“What? No, I asked you first. You really scared me.” 

Castiel sighed deeply and looked at the wall to his side. 

“I had a seizure.”

“Yeah... I got that when I saw it happen. But why? Are you sick?”

“No... I had attempted to do something on my own. It was not wise on my part. Ah, when I was put on anxiety medication, I did not know that the body becomes dependent on it to the point of deadly withdrawals when not taken.” Castiel's head dropped momentarily before he raised it again and looked to Sam. “I am deeply sorry. I never meant to worry or scare you.”

Sam felt his body relax, not even realizing he'd been holding onto so much tension. It was like he could breathe again, as if he'd been bound by an ace bandage that fell off in just that moment.

“So... you're okay. Actually okay.” He waited for Castiel's nod before he let himself sink onto Castiel's bed with him, knees suddenly very jelly like. “Thank God. But why did you stop taking your meds? How did you stop? I saw you take them.” 

“No, you saw what I wanted the orderlies and doctors to see. And then I hid the pills until I could flush them. I didn't mean to deceive you. You made me feel so much better, I decided for myself that I didn't need anything else. That I would be fine without medication if you were around. It was not a smart decision, not only because of the health consequences... but I hadn't even asked you of your feelings regarding us- regarding me.”

“Cas, you are...” Sam searched for the right words. “I've been going crazy without you. I didn't know I would be so... I didn't realize how important you were to me until you were gone.”  
Castiel laid a hand over Sam's larger one.

“Is that what happened to you? You've lost weight and you haven't been taking care of yourself. I can see that much.”

Sam started to pull his hand away, but Castiel's fingers curled and gripped him. He turned his face away instead, remembering his unkempt and scruffy state suddenly.

“It's not a big deal. I had a plan... well, it started out that way. Dean said that they wanted to let me go and I couldn't go without knowing how you were. You don't understand. Nobody would tell me anything. So I decided to make sure they didn't want to let me go... at least as long as it took for you to come back. It was a plan.. but I kind of got lost.” Sam was embarrassed that he'd let himself be sucked in by the depression that he'd thought he had a handle on for so long. Castiel ran a hand down Sam's facial hair, unknowingly soothing an itch that had been bothering Sam. 

“Seems as if we both have made terrible decisions. But Sam... being overwhelmed, being scared, being depressed... they are nothing to be embarrassed by. You have survived to this point and will survive much longer if I have any say in it. I demand you start taking care of yourself again.” Castiel turned his body towards Sam, legs lifting onto the bed, and his eyes widened with intensity. “Now, Sam... we need to talk about something very important. Especially because you have now, undoubtedly, extended your stay here and we need to get out of here quite soon.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, forehead wrinkling in confusion. He heard the door click open behind him and Castiel glared at the offending architecture.

“After breakfast. First we take care of you.” Castiel grabbed Sam's hands and pulled him off the bed and into the bathroom.

~

Sam was all smiles through breakfast. They'd come straight to the dining hall after Castiel shaved Sam's face with the electric shaver that was allowed (razors were forbidden for all patients). Castiel had also taken charge and ordered Sam's breakfast for him.

It was the most delicious plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast that Sam had ever had.

“Good to see your appetite has returned, Sam.” Doctor Sherri paused at their table with a smile. “And we are glad to see you back and healthy, Castiel.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Castiel nodded formally.

After Castiel made sure that Sam ate everything on his plate, they went back to their room. They settled on Castiel's bed again with Castiel facing the door so he could be sure their conversation remained private.

“Okay, so what's this important thing we need to talk about?” Sam asked. He was cross-legged at the foot of the bed and he gripped his toes to keep still and wait for whatever needed to be said.

“Sam, I have not been completely honest with you about my past.” 

Sam nodded for Castiel to continue. He was listening and he was open, free from judgement. 

“I'm an angel.” 

There was a moment where Sam wasn't sure how to respond even though Castiel was clearly waiting for him to react in some way.

“What does that mean? What kind of angel?”

“... of the Lord.”

“Um... Cas...” Sam shifted awkwardly. After seeing Castiel tear at his back for wings that didn't exist, Sam was almost frightened by the intensity in his face as he spoke. He just wanted Castiel to be okay, not... crazy. Though he'd still care for him if that were the case. Castiel's face softened slightly as he seemed to realize what Sam was thinking.

“I know you know of demons and supernatural beings. I know what you hunt, Sam. I know who you are.”

Sam jerked his whole body back, and would have fallen off the bed if Castiel had not reacted quickly and held Sam's knees in place.

“How...?”

“I'm an angel.”

“If you knew who I was, why didn't you say something?”

“Ah... because I didn't know before. I'm a fallen angel with no grace. Just memories of my life in Heaven before I found home in this vessel, my body.”

Sam cringed, pulling away.

“You're possessing someone?” His voice was a hiss as he tried to keep his volume down.

“Sam, please stay calm. I'm trying to explain everything. And no... a soul was never assigned to this body. It was meant to be a stillbirth before I inhabited it. It is mine... me. Angels require consent to use the body that belongs to a soul. I fell into this one, was most likely sent to it since it belonged to no soul.” Castiel's hands rubbed Sam's knees gently.

“Okay...?”

“I didn't know who you were when we met. The anxiety medication had cut me off from hearing the other angel's voices. When I took myself off the medication, I began to hear them again. It unnerved me. But while I was away, I heard them speaking of you. They know who you are, where you are. They don't like the fact that the two of us are associating.”

“What? Why? Why do they care?”

Castiel shifted into his knees, leaning in close to Sam. He put his hands on Sam's shoulders and they stared into each other's eyes for a moment. Sam didn't know what Castiel was searching for.

“Sam Winchester, don't you know who you are?”

Sam opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Was Castiel talking about the Yellow Eyed Demon? Sam and the other kids that he had plans for? It would certainly explain why it would be bad for someone like Castiel, an angel, to be hanging out with someone who seemed to be destined for death and destruction.

“Sam, you are precious. Before I fell, I remember my life before. In all the hundreds of thousands of years that I've lived, I never found anyone or anything that was as important to me as you are now. And I-”

Castiel never finished his words as Sam closed the distance between them, crushing Castiel's mouth with his own. They were on their knees, arms slowly winding around each other in the middle of Castiel's bed. Sam wrapped one arm around Castiel's waist while his other hand found its fingers running through the wild black hair on the angel's head. Castiel's hands slowly made their way from Sam's shoulders up to his neck, so delicately holding Sam in place. 

“Cas...” Sam gasped in a moment when their lips parted before he was pulled back into the kiss. His lip was nibbled and sucked and their teeth knocked as they both pushed forward, tongues darting out and exploring the other wet space.

When they pulled apart, Sam could see Castiel's eyes were a slightly glazed and his lips swollen and dark. Sam blushed furiously because he'd made him look that way.

“Sorry, I...”

“Do not apologize. Whatever you do, do not apologize. Not for that. Not for something I want so much.”

“So, does this mean.. I mean, what does this mean?” Sam shook his head to clear his mind and make a coherent sentence. “Cas, are we together now?”

“Would you like to be?”

“God, yes.” Sam exhaled his answer. Castiel smiled softly and nodded.

“I also would like to be.”


	4. Chapter 4

After Sam's private therapy session on Tuesday, he made the call to Dean.

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean's voice sounded strained over the phone. Sam knew it was his fault. He wasn't in the best state of mind when his brother visited last week and he'd sabotaged Dean's surprise of Sam getting out of the hospital, the latter of which made Sam cringe because of what he now needed Dean to do.

“Dean, I need you to get us out of here.”

“Sam... I told you I wasn't going to overrule any decisions the doc made. You fell apart, man. You need their help.”

“No, Dean, please listen to me. I know I was in a bad place, but that's over. Well, I'm dealing with it. This isn't about me missing you or feeling scared. This is about... it's related to our kind of work. You know... the family business.” Sam was as vague as he could be, knowing his conversations were not as private as he would like them to be.

“What?” Sam heard Dean perk up. He had his full attention now. “Have you had any-”

“Sudden headaches?” Sam interrupted Dean's question, knowing he was asking about visions and impressing to Dean that their conversation could be listened to. “No... nothing like that. But uh... we may be pressed for time. Come and visit?”

“Yeah.” Sam heard shuffling in the background. “Okay, I'll come tomorrow morning and you can tell me what's up.”

“Sounds great. Thanks, Dean.”

Sam hung up the phone and left the small room, meeting up with Castiel in the hallway. He hoped he never lost the feeling of his heart jumping into his throat whenever he saw the other man waiting for him. When Sam go close, Castiel's head tilted in question.

“Dean will be here tomorrow. You can tell him what you told me.”

Castiel nodded and pushed off from the wall.

“Very good. The angels seem worried about our friendship- our relationship getting in the way of the ultimate plan.”

Sam looked around for listening ears before leaning in.

“You can hear them now?”

Castiel shook his head slightly, walking towards their room. Sam followed. 

“Not all of them. Not completely. I can hear can hear those who were closest to me before my fall. There is a disagreement among them. Some would rather kill me and start you on your path as soon as possible. Others feel separating us would be good enough. And then there are those who feel we pose no threat. This argument is giving us time.”

Sam nodded. Their whole day had been centered around making a plan to get out. To hide from the angels. Castiel said he knew of a way to keep hidden, but they needed the freedom to do it. 

Entering their room, Sam sighed with relief. Alone with Castiel, he felt at peace. He followed to Castiel's bed sat with his back against the wall, his long legs taking up half the bed. Castiel kicked his big slippers off and laid the opposite direction, planting his feet on the cold wall near Sam's shoulder. He wrinkled his nose when he found Sam's slippered feet next to his head and he reached an arm over and pulled the slippers off. 

“So do you actually have wings?” Sam asked.

“I did. I don't now. Except for hearing their communications, I'm completely human. Have been for twenty nine years.” Castiel's feet slowly walked up the wall, his butt raising slightly when his feet got high enough. Then he walked back down.

“So those were your wings that you always painted?”

“Horrific, aren't they?” 

“What? No!” Sam protested. Castiel's face turned sharply to him, curiosity obvious in his expression. “Cas, they are beautiful. Wish I could have actually seen them when you had them.”

“They are black as sin. Dark as the night. I was looked down upon in my earlier days for them.” Castiel sighed. “You wouldn't have been able to see them, even if I still had them right now. They are not visible to human eyes. You might see their shadow...” He bounced his legs once as if to shrug.

“I bet they're soft...”

~

The next morning had Castiel pacing the room with his oversized slippers that made his walk into a shuffle. If Sam's knees weren't bouncing from nerves while waiting for Dean, he would take time to think on how endearing the shuffle was.  
Just when he thought his nervous stomach might lose it's breakfast, there was a light knock on the door frame and Sam looked up to see Dean standing there. Dean looked almost comfortable, having visited several times.

“So Sam... uh, do you wanna go somewhere and talk privately? About... work?” Dean's eyes shifted to Castiel momentarily.

“Actually, he's the one that needs to explain our situation to you. We need to get him out too.” Sam tried to smile as Dean's face fell momentarily before he recovered back into hunter mode.

“Please, have a seat.” Castiel gestured to his own bed as he joined Sam on his so they could all face each other. Dean did as requested, sitting on Castiel's bed, and waited to be informed.

“I am an angel of the Lord... or I was. Without my grace, I'm as human as you right now. You and Sam have destinies that Heaven very much wants fulfilled, and they don't want us associating with each other.” Castiel paused, seeing that Dean was not convinced. “I am sorry that I was not aware of your true identities when we first met. It was not until I started hearing their voices again that-”

“Okay, enough! Voices?” Dean looked at Sam, ignoring Castiel. “Sam, why are you listening to this loon? Are you really so bad off that you'll believe any crazy person's story now?”

“Dean!” Sam was about to stand up, but Castiel gently held him back and calmly stood instead. He approached Dean and leaned in close to whisper something. Sam's eyes widened as he watched Dean's face grow pale and he looked back at Castiel with what could only be described as fear and awe.

“I trust you believe me now.” Castiel sounded sad, but Sam was relieved when Dean nodded silently.

“What did you say to him?” Sam asked as Castiel came back to his bed. Dean avoided his eyes.

“I told him of something that only he would know.”

Figuring it was probably something very personal or embarrassing, Sam didn't ask anymore about it. He nodded for Castiel to continue.

“As I was saying, when I started hearing my brothers and sisters is when I realized that you were the brothers that Heaven has known about since long before you were born. And now they know where we are. They will do anything they can to ensure the prophecies are fulfilled. Anything is a very scary concept when the enemy is all powerful.”

“Just what the hell kind of prophecies are we supposed to be fulfilling anyway?”

“I believe in freedom. It does not matter what Heaven decides to be their destiny. I believe they can find their own path without encouragement from one side or another.”

“So... instead of just signing Sammy out, we gotta break you out.” Dean leaned back on the bed, elbows holding his shoulders up. “No problem.”

“No problem? They know who you are. It's not like you can flash a fake ID and bullshit our way out.” Sam pointed out. Dean flashed him an impish grin.

“I wasn't planning on being that subtle.”

~

“Dean, this is stupid. It's like high school all over again,” Sam muttered as they walked calmly out the main building doors with everyone else while the fire alarm blared from all directions.

“Oh c'mon, Sam. That was an accident. Suzie- Stacy?- no... Suzie and I were making out and my hand slipped. I was seventeen.” Dean shrugged. He looked around to make sure they weren't on anyone's immediate radar and shoved Sam and Castiel to the left.

“Okay, over here. Hurry... without being too obvious.”

“I'm just saying... it's not very complicated. I could have pulled a fire alarm without you.” Sam said.

“And then what? Hitch hike the rest of the way? Besides... if it's such a simple plan, why didn't you think of it on your own?" Dean smirked.

Sam rolled his eyes, but quickened his steps. Rounding the corner of the building, Sam felt his adrenaline kick in when he saw the Impala. Home. Out of everyone's sight, Sam broke into a jog and made it to the car first. 

“Ah, I missed you.” He whispered while running a hand along the side.

“See, I knew you'd miss my baby. Finally admitting it, too.” Dean pointed with the keys. 

Sam was about to hop into his usual spot as the front passenger, but stopped himself and opened the back door instead. Dean gave him a funny look but shrugged and looked at Castiel.

“We okay to go to Bobby's or do we need to hide out?”

“Bobby's house will be safe enough, but we'll need to make a few stops beforehand. We need to find a tattoo shop, and Sam and I need clothing that blends in better first.”

“Well, I already brought Sam's clothes, so that's one down. But uh... why do we need to find a tattoo shop?”

“Permanent sigils to hide from the angels.” 

“Permanent, on our skin permanent?” Dean frowned.

“That's... a really good idea, Cas.” Sam smiled. As Dean turned to face the front, Sam took Castiel's hand in his own. Sam caught Dean's eyes on him in the rear view mirror and shrugged a smile at him. 

They stopped at a thrift store for some quick clothing. Castiel was in a changing room when Dean took Sam by the arm and dragged him to a corner.

“Sam, you could have told me... about you and Cas.” Dean hissed. Sam's eyes widened at the harsh tone.

“Do I need to do a whole coming out speech?”

“What? No. I already knew about that. You think you were that good at hiding Ross Macinaw from Dad when you were in high school? C'mon...” Dean's eyes softened then. “But it would have been easier on me to know the reason behind your rough week last week. Dammit, Sammy... I thought you were gonna...” His voice trailed off.

“Sorry, Dean. I didn't think... well, I hadn't figured it out until then. I think it just kinda snuck up on us. It didn't really come to a head until last night, so it's still new.”

“Yeah, well just know you don't have to hide anything from me. And please... no 'head' jokes. Too soon.” Dean laughed at his own wordplay as he gave Sam a pat on the back and went to wait by the exit doors.  
By the end of the shopping trip, Castiel was in a pair of black pants and a light blue button down shirt with the top two buttons undone.

With directions from the thrift shop employee, they found a tattoo shop and Castiel used their marker to scribble something on a piece of paper.

“It's Enochian. The three of us need this, exactly this without any mistakes, on our bodies.” Castiel instructed. 

The tattoo artist took took a look at the paper.

“Should be $80 each. Just pick where you want 'em.” She blew a bright pink bubblegum bubble and took the paper to the back to make copies that would transfer onto skin for her to trace over while Dean and Sam argued over the best place for the tattoo.

Dean ended up in the chair first. The bubblegum chewing artist brought the buzzing tattoo gun up to his shoulder and he flinched away.

“Whoa, whoa.. okay, are we really sure this will work?” Dean glared at the artist until she backed off a bit and looked pleadingly at Sam and Castiel. Sam tried not to laugh.

“Dean... this is nothing. You've stitched your own bullet grazes before. You can handle a tattoo.”

“Fine. Let's get this over with.” Dean nodded the go ahead and closed his eyes against the expected pain. It didn't take more than twenty minutes for the small tattoo and he hopped off the chair to flex his right arm in front of the mirror.

“That wasn't half bad. Damn, it looks good.” He grinned before he was shoved back into the chair so the tattoo could be wrapped.

Sam went next and got his tattoo on the right side of his chest and Castiel's was placed below his ribs on his left.

In the car, on the way to Bobbys, is when the angels discovered that they'd lost their persons of interest. Sam knew the moment it happened because Castiel's whole body flinched before he curled forward, holding his head.

“Cas? Dean, pull over!” Sam wrapped his arms around Castiel, feeling the vibrating tension in his muscles.

“No... no, I am fine.” Castiel's voice was strained, but Sam could feel him slowly relaxing. “They are angry... they can't find us.” He uncurled and leaned into Sam with a sigh. “It worked.”

“That's good!” Sam smiled.

“Yes, for now. The tattoos are a temporary fix. They will eventually find ways around them.”

“So we just got inked for nothing?” Dean slammed a fist on the steering wheel.

“Not for nothing. This will give us time.”

“Time for what?” Sam asked.

“Time to prepare. We need to be able to fight. You need to know as much as I can teach you, and I...” Castiel trailed off, looking out the window away from Sam's inquisitive eyes.

“Cas, what is it?”

“I will need to be stronger than I am presently.”

“Great. You'll teach us and we'll train you.” Dean said from the front.

“No, what I need to do could lead them straight to me and then to you. After I have taught you enough, I will need to do this on my own.” He took Sam's hand in his own and gave it a light kiss. “I have to find my grace. I'll need angelic strength once again.”

“No. Cas, no. That's been your biggest fear. I didn't imagine you trying to tear off wings you thought were there.”

“Sam, I have to do this.” He was firm. His blue eyes flashed darkly with determination.

“Well, you're not doing it alone. C'mon, I'm not losing you so soon. Besides, we're a team now. Dean and I will be there for you. We'll do this together.” Sam leaned in and touched their heads together. “You said you believed in free will. Screw whatever prophesies are hanging over our heads.”

“Yeah,” Dean chimed in. “Team Free Will.”

And so a new chapter began in the life of Sam Winchester. The chapter of Team Free Will.


End file.
